


Notos

by Iggyfing



Category: Final Fantasy X
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Drama, Gen, Suspense, These two live in my head rent free, Yuna's POV, a dash of cosmic horror i suppose, foetp, sure would be great if seymour would just take the L huh, they keep me up at night being the awkwardest and stupidest nemeses, this is final fantasy i'll be as incomprehensible as i want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:08:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29051895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iggyfing/pseuds/Iggyfing
Summary: They meet again at the edge of the Farplane, only something's not quite right.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	Notos

**Author's Note:**

> back at it again w the seymour and yuna content bc they won't leave me alone

They meet again at the edge of the Farplane, the once High Summoner and the man who would be Sin. 

Yuna had come to see her parents, to revel in the memory of them.

Seymour had dragged himself to the border, just like his own father. Had pressed through the shimmering gate.

Yuna no longer carries her staff, and so is helpless to send him back. 

He strains to escape.

There is a great dark mountain in Seymour’s shadow. Or perhaps he is in its shadow, for his feet and lower robes fade into the darkness of the craggy peak.

Something small and stifled in Yuna’s soul trembles violently at the sight. She only stifles it further, unclasping her hands from over her heart and balling them at her sides instead. She will be steel before him. “Why are you here?” she snaps far too hotly. Steel is only good cold.

The dread in his gaze might have pleased her were it not for that dark mountain. His voice is strained, taut with something deeper than the dread in his eyes: “You see it, too.”

Yuna’s skin burns cold. Unbidden, her eyes flick from his face to the shadow. She quickly turns them back to his face. The mountain still looms behind him at the edges of her vision, vast and void and far too dark. Her mouth is suddenly dry. She swallows hard. “What is it?” she scarcely more than breathes. 

He draws several quick breaths, each more ragged than the last. “I had hoped—“ A sound like a sob nearly escapes him before he can cover his mouth. He doubles over and takes more of those ragged breaths.

Disgust and pity churn in Yuna’s gut as that stifled thing in her soul returns as a buzzing hum. She hates him like this. This trembling and manic dread stirs only naive sympathies and petty spites from her. Where were his even tones, his placid gaze? Where was that infuriating smirk that constantly flirted at the corners of his mouth? She preferred him that way. It was easy to hate him like that.

He composes himself as well he can in the shadow of the mountain, still trembling, still ragged and wretched, and when he looks back up at her, there is a near-senseless terror dark in his eyes. “I don’t know.” His voice breaks on the words.

He falls to his knees before her, hands splaying on the ground. It is only when he bows his head that she realizes this abjection was on purpose. She takes a step back, a traitorous hand rising to clasp over her chest. “What are you—?”

“I have done you a terrible wrong.” His nails, grown long in the Guado fashion, claw the dirt.

She cannot look at him. Not like this. But with him contrite on the ground, his height no longer obscures the awful crags. The mountain is all she can see. 

He raises his head but keeps his gaze fixed on the ground. “I can only beg your forgiveness.” He draws another ragged breath. “Lady Yuna, will you give me your aid?”

Her feet have carried her several steps back, and her head shakes of its own accord. How can he ask that? He would have ended the world. What right does a lunatic have to entreat her for aid? Let him rot in the shadow of his mountain. It’s no less than he deserves. It’s better than he deserves. If it were just, the mountain would collapse over him, burying him alive and swallowing him whole.

“Have you,” she starts, voice far softer than it ought to be, “forgiven a soul in your life?”

His gaze meets hers, all emotion shielded behind a mask of frigid apathy. It’s close enough. She can hate him now. 

“Your mother?” she demands, finally steel. “Your father? Your people? The world? How can you ask me to help you — to forgive you — when you haven’t forgiven anyone yourself? You don’t know what you’re asking.”

The weight of the mountain swells around him as he rises slowly to his feet.

She hardly notices, holding his gaze, daring him to respond. She is sharp and deadly and will not be swayed.

He only glances slowly down at her feet, then back up to her face. The corners of his mouth pull taut in that accursed not-smirk. In his eyes is only a terrible resignation. “I see,” he says. “You have one, too.”

She looks down, and a gaping abyss yawns wide and dark beneath her feet.

**Author's Note:**

> _"and every word you shouldn't say  
>  will come bubbling out of your throat  
> but you've got no one left to blame  
> for the things you lost to the winds of notos"_


End file.
